In the ornate front hall of the Vesalius Manor, there was a small, yet tastefully elegant parlor. Everything inside was wrought of glass and clear or very lightly colored crystal, everything sparking and reflecting the white streaming in from the large windows.

The couches were large and comfortable, for the Dukes' wife had loved inviting and entertaining her friends and enemies alike, and decorated with faded floral patterns. The small sunflowers and primroses held by the clear vases, their stems distorted by the cut of the glass, were fresh and perky, newly picked from the garden.

Arranged in the center of the room were three small tea tables, a rather plain silver tea set sitting as patiently as the bowl of fruit and the flask of holy water on the other. Never let it be said that the Duchess was not without her quirks.

Slightly muted from the distance of other hallways were children's voices, raised in play, their faded laughter and shouts filling the room with life.

Resting on the floor near the oversized loveseat was a pile of miniature suitcases and hat boxes. Beside them waited a familiar blue doll, wearing a newly bought hat and dress and very, very happy to be home at last.